Lost in You
by HornyUnicorn
Summary: Blaine didn't know what to feel. He was dead. He died in a comma caused by two violent homophobes that went too far. So he was given 200 days to help someone finish what he was supposed to do. To find himself, and to learn how to love.
1. Chapter 1: Tragedy

**Hi! This is my first fic ever so please go easy on me, or not, idk do whatever I guess? I'm gonna describe some pretty nasty things about Blaine's attack and stuff so please feel free to skip it. I really don't want anyone getting hurt by reading my story so feel free to skip the first chapter. I hope you don't skip the story though but it's your choice. I really hope you like it though! So please read and enjoy. :D Maybe? Idk.**

**I don't own Glee, or Desperado, sung by the Eagles.**

**You can find it here: **_.com/watch?v=0BwOXlGbW6Q_

**I mean seriously, while the thought is deeply flattering, the show wouldn't be as successful as it is now. It would be better. :D Naaah. Just kidding. Nothing can beat Brad and Ryan Murphy. :D**

**Desperado, written by one of the greatest bands in the world, the Eagles? Oh shucks your making me blush. ;D**

**This is Au and Canon at the same time though. I guess? I wanted to try it so boom! There it is.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 1: Tragedy**

Blaine was standing in the middle of a hospital room. The sharp, heavy smell of blood hit his nose; clean, simple white walls stared at him from all angles. The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight, as he took in the small patch of sunlight pouring through the window, hitting the boy's face on the bed next to him.

_It was him._

Blaine's blood ran cold, his stomach dropped as he looked down on himself, taking in the devastating state he was in.

Blood shimmered on the side of his head, he had bruises all over, the shirt he was wearing on the bed was thoroughly soaked with blood, his eye looked to be swollen shut and his broken nose looked ugly and deformed. The word "fag" was cut through his left wrist, the words clear and intimidating. A blanket covered his legs so only his hip up was visible. But the damage was frighteningly clear.

Blaine's head spun. He was looking at _himself._

"_A dream. That's all this is. Just one of those silly bad dreams again."_ Blaine said as he tried to reassure himself that this wasn't real. It was just one of those bad dreams again where he was always about to die in the end but woke up before he could find out. _Right. This is all a dream! Just a bad, bad dream!_

"_It's time to wake up now". _Blaine thought as he shut his eyes tight, clenched his fists and breathed hard as he willed himself to wake up. But everything went cold instead, his body faced a strong gust of wind as he felt the floor underneath him drop, a silent scream went out of his mouth as the wind knocked the air out of him, but he kept his eyes firmly closed.

He felt ground. Thank God he wasn't falling anymore. But everything was still cold, Blaine lurched and vomited nothing but bile as he wiped his mouth with his left hand and slowly opened his eyes. He wasn't awake yet. Blaine felt his mouth twist into a frown as cold fear gripped him and took the surrounding area around him.

The heavy stench of blood Blaine smelled in the hospital room was replaced with the numbing smell of alcohol, the white walls were replaced with a pale yellow, and the room he was in was illuminated with florescent light instead of the sun's natural glow, rows of chairs stood before him. He was in a waiting room, _in a hospital._

Blaine's body shook as it sensed the danger and fear that Blaine was now wallowing in. He was dizzy and he could barely see straight. His stomach twisted and turned as he heard a broken sob come from behind him.

Blaine turned slowly. Fear was practically running through his veins as cold dread clawed away at him.

It was his mother. Long, curly, black hair shrouded her beautiful face as she sniffed and sobbed. She was dressed in a long, elegantly cut, blue dress, though it was ruined with all the dirt and grime and— _is that blood?_ - smearing her dress in long dirty streaks. Her shoulders were shaking, her hands covering her face, trying to hide the tears that were still there.

Blaine's throat constricted, a big lump forming, the kind of ones you get before you're about to cry. But Blaine held it in. He wouldn't cry. Not now. Not when his mother is right there breaking down in front of him. He was used to seeing her like this. Used to seeing her cry. But the sad, helpless feeling he got never ceased to appear. He stopped shaking now. Maybe he felt safer when someone he knew was with him in his dream. Though he didn't like what was happening. Blaine never did, in dreams like this.

Blaine walked over slowly, his legs heavy and uncooperative. The heart-aching fear he felt for himself was replaced for fear for his mother. What happened? Why is she crying like this?

Blaine sat down on the chair next to her, waves of concern pulsed through his body as he reached out his hand to comfort her. He didn't feel the hard plastic he was sitting on. Odd. But that's not important right now. All that matters is his mother.

"_M- Mom?" _Blaine winced as his voice came out scratchy and raw_. "Mom? Come on now, it's alright. Everything's going to be alright." _Blaine said, stretching his arms out to rub her back_. _

_But his hands went right through her. His hands, his body. He was transparent. His body looked like a wavering image on a blinking screen. _

Blaine let out a broken sob, his body shaking once again as he curled himself into a tight ball. He slammed his hands against his mother's solid form again and again but it all went through her. He waved and poked but he couldn't feel her. Blaine gave up and bit his wrist. It didn't hurt. He gave a hard pinch to his left arm. _It didn't hurt._

"_Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!'_ Blaine screamed, tears of frustration blurring his line of vision. He clutched his sides and rocked himself back and forth, sobbing and screaming with frustration. "_It's not real. It's not real." _Blaine repeated over and over desperately, eyes shut as he rocked himself faster.

Muffled footsteps padded down the corridor. His mother looked up quickly. So quick that Blaine thought she could have snapped her neck. She wiped her eyes furiously with the white handkerchief she produced out of her bag, though it did nothing to wipe away the black mascara trailing down her face. Her beautiful brown eyes, red and swollen looked alert and frightened at the same time. She sat up straight and looked expectantly at the hallway.

Blaine's father stepped out, his big, black shoes shining in the light. He had eyes like Blaine's, though they were puffy and red and were still shining with tears. He had a stocky build and brown, graying hair, and his hands were shaking. He was wearing a black, fancy tuxedo, one of the many, but it was ruined too. Rumpled and tear smudged, Blaine's father held his arms open as his mother threw herself against him sobbing uncontrollably.

A blanket of warmth mingled with a frustrating sense of helplessness tingled in Blaine's heart as he watched them, the side of his head resting on his elbow and left hand.

It had been so long since his parents looked like this, caring and unguarded. They had always been there for him, they acted like parents but Blaine knew that him being gay left a permanent scar on their relationship.

It was like they weren't there when Blaine was talking to them about school or some other silly thing that came across his day. They smiled and nodded but their smiles never reached their eyes. Blaine barely saw them talk to one another, much more than small gestures of affection like hugs and kisses on the cheek.

He still remembered the time when his father made him rebuild a car engine. One of his many failed attempts at "bonding". But his father stopped trying to turn him straight and dealt with it. In his own way.

A male doctor was standing awkwardly behind his parents. He was clutching a clipboard and he had a sad look in his eyes. The kind of sad that made you sure brought bad news.

He looked like an average doctor. Dark hair, dark eyes, strong jaw, you know, the works. He had a light beard and he was dressed in an immaculate, white doctor's robe.

The doctor cleared his throat, though Blaine's mother's muffled cries drowned him out, so he took a slight frown as he politely said an "excuse me".

Blaine's parents turned at the sound simultaneously, it was almost comical if it were at a different situation, but the doctor's eyes grew sadder when he saw the tears and he clutched his clipboard tighter, his knuckles white.

"I have bad news." the doctor said in a stiff, grave voice.

It was weird, being in a comma. He couldn't feel anything physically anymore. He could still sit and hold things but he couldn't feel them. It was when he ran outside of the hospital when he heard that he was in a comma when he finally broke down.

_It was raining, the clear, small drops smacking down in a heavy downpour. Blaine was glad to see it was raining. He liked the rain, liked the feeling of the small drops, pattering against his skin, washing all the bad things away, leaving the earth fresh and raw. _

_Blaine stretched his arms out as he breathed out a sigh of relief, closed his eyes and stepped out in the melancholy shower, a content smile already forming on his lips._

_He expected the water to soak him through, expected the images of him on the hospital bed to wash away, the sight of his mother falling to her knees as his father crumbled on the ground to disappear._

_He expected to feel. _

_But he didn't. _

_Blaine stood in the rain disbelievingly for a few minutes, his smile fading away slowly, then sank down on his knees, his arms falling limply against his sides and cried. _

_He sobbed and screamed until tears wouldn't come out of his eyes anymore and his voice was sorer and hoarser than it ever was before. The rain wasn't there to wash his tears away. He didn't feel the ground underneath his knees._

_Blaine lost all of the hope flickering inside him and his will to live or act like he was even alive flickered like a candle's flame. Weak and small._

That's all he felt right now. Weak. Small. Broken. Afraid. Dead.

But he wasn't dead.

Blaine was walking around the Dalton halls. The old, majestic walls never ceased to calm him, to make him feel safe and secure.

Dalton was his sanctuary. His sacred place. The one place where he felt loved and wanted. Something his parents sadly didn't make him feel. He got away here after the bullying in his old school was too much and thought "_Finally. Somewhere I belong."_

He ran his hands through his ungelled hair, the happiest he ever felt after he heard the news of his.. predicament, a warm feeling bubbled through him as he looked around.

People bustled around him. Some ran to class, books close to their chest as they pushed people away. Some walked around in groups laughing and snickering, joking around. Some studied quietly and some students did what he did. Looked at the people around them, wondering how their lives could have differed from theirs, how, in any sense their unrequited loves would turn and look at them, feel the spark they felt, how they could learn from each other the different meanings of life, or simply, just stared.

His feet automatically took him to where he wanted to go. Blaine was about to wave and say hi to someone he knew when he remembered that they couldn't hear him. Couldn't see him.

The smile Blaine had plastered on his face ever since he arrived in front of the front doors of his previous school faltered a little, he gave a dejected sigh and stared at the doors to the Warbler Choir Room.

It was made out of oak, like every other door in the school. Two canaries were intricately carved on each of the two doors. A tidal wave of memories suddenly washed through him.

_No. Not now. Please. Not now._

His clammy palms turned clammier when he heard the steady thrum of Wes's voice through the doors.

Blaine breathed heavily, excitement, nervousness, and dread all tied into a steady knot of feelings. What if seeing them made him want to touch them and feel them? His heart would shatter to a million pieces again, broken, sharp and painful.

But it didn't matter. He was seeing them. Even if he broke down again and he couldn't be put himself back together. He wanted to see them. They were his _friends. _They put him back together piece by piece when he transferred. When he jumped at everything and flinched at every touch, they were there, supporting and being what a friend should be. They smiled and encouraged him to start singing again. They gave his will to live back to him and stopped him and reassured him that everything would be okay.

"_Everything's alright Blaine. You're safe. You're here. That's what matters alright? That you're alive and well. Courage Blaine. Courage." Wes had said rubbing the small of his back as Blaine had tried his hardest not to flinch. He gave Wes a weak smile and broke down in front of him. _

That's when he started using Courage.

Blaine had put up walls and become what he thought he wanted people for him to be. He became the perfect son, polite and helpful around the house. The perfect student, straight A's, the lead singer in his choir, popular, and adored. The perfect gay boy, he went and practically told everyone his sexual orientation. If he couldn't be what his parents wanted him to be, then he could at least be who he wanted to be; an out and proud gay teenager. He didn't want anyone to worry. Didn't want anyone to see him weak and helpless anymore.

Blaine's heart tightened painfully when he heard Wes's voice break at the sentence he was saying. He clenched his fists and walked through the heavy, oak doors.

A sad, depressing, overpowering blanket of sadness and despair hung in the air. Warblers had their heads in their hands. Others were crying. Blaine's heart broke, just as he predicted, and sat down next to Nick. The lump in Blaine's throat made it hard to breathe, his heart was aching, and the tears swimming in his eyes made it hard to see.

_No. I'm not crying. Not anymore._

Nick's breathing was normal, thankfully, he looked pained, his eyes brimming with tears, though they weren't red and puffy like Jeff's. His thumb and pointer touched the bridge of his nose, he shut his eyes tightly, the tears falling gently like morning dew.

Blaine stretched out a hand to touch his knee. He didn't feel it. But Nick turned and stared right into his eyes.

Blaine's breath caught and he felt a light inside of him flicker. Hope, maybe?

_Maybe he can see me! Maybe, he can talk to me!_

But Nick just turned and stared at Wes again. He didn't even know if what Wes saying went into his head.

_Oh… Okay._

Blaine thought sadly, the light inside of him went out and died.

Jeff was sitting right across from them. He was shaking. His usually, carefully, styled hair looked like a gopher went in and bit and made a home in it. It was sticking out in different angles. He was biting his lip furiously, a hand already reaching out to get lost in his blond frock as he covered his eyes quickly, though it didn't stop the tears from falling on his lap.

Wes suddenly sounded so lost and scared. Blaine whipped his head around to stare in his direction.

He was crying. The gavel that was almost constantly resting against his left arm was thrown across the room. He was shaking too.

"I'm sure that you all heard of Blaine's predicament." Wes said, his shaking voice breaking at the last word.

David stood up and pulled him into a tight embrace, his own shoulders shaking, Wes was sobbing uncontrollably now. He looked what Blaine felt. Broken and defenseless.

Nick stood up and said, "I have a song to sing. And I want Blaine to know that wherever he is right now-", he choked up a little but he got himself together and kept talking.

"I want him to know that wherever he is right now, that he had been a great role model for me. He was an amazing person, he lit up the whole room whenever he walked in, the sun in front of our eyes and we didn't even know it. I miss him. I miss him so much. But I just want him to know, that wherever he is, wherever he is right now- I-I want him to know that we love him for who he is. Flaws and all."

The rueful smile he had after that sentence, turned into constant lip biting as he tried to keep it from trembling.

The soft tinkling piano keys playing gently in the background, submerged everyone in a clearer set of mind. There was always something about music. Something about it that brought you intense sadness, happiness, remorse, regret; created by the magical tunes. They can turn a happy atmosphere into a sad one, make a seemingly happy girl burst into tears, unite nations, bring people together, and move people's hearts.

Blaine had always loved music, always loved the ways that made him feel. Singing could make him feel like he wasn't hiding, wasn't holding anything back.

Nick nodded to the warbler seated next to their old-fashioned stereo, a determined and immensely sad look on his face and sang; tears flowing freely, his voice amicably steady and firm.

_Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?  
>You been out ridin' fences for so long now<em>

The stifling blanket of sadness currently drowning the room's atmosphere in, grew thicker and heavier. Blaine's heart tugged, and broke, slowly but surely, cracking slowly like thin ice breaking. A soft hum went through the room. The Warblers were harmonizing with Nick, making the song sound all the more beautifully sad.

_Oh, you're a hard one  
>I know that you got your reasons<br>These things that are pleasin' you  
>Can hurt you somehow<em>

Soft, gentle drops fell into Blaine's lap. He touched his wet face, and smiled. He knew that he would never forget them. He would never forget his friends. _Never._

_Don' you draw the queen of diamonds, boy  
>She'll beat you if she's able<br>You know the queen of hearts is always your best bet_

It's funny how the lyrics hit him with so much force. So his friends knew he was hiding. He should have known.

…**.**

_You don't have to keep hiding from us Blaine." Jeff had said with sad, pitying eyes._

_They were studying in the library then, and Blaine was quite taken with the short passage about freedom in the 1950's that he didn't quite catch that._

"_Pardon?" Blaine said, lifting his eyes from the book he was reading and looked at Jeff curiously._

"_Nothing." Jeff had grumbled as he quickly changed the subject to side steps and ties._

…**..**

_Now it seems to me, some fine things  
>Have been laid upon your table<br>But you only want the ones that you can't get_

Memory after memory hit him with full force. Coy smiles after he and David pranked a teacher with water ballons, nerf wars and drunken parties, sleepless nights spent studying, singing, performing. It was almost too much. The Warblers' voices drowning him in the past. The symphony was growing louder now, stronger. Filled with more emotion than Blaine had ever heard them in their short time together.

_Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?_

A steady beeping nose joined in from somewhere in Blaine's head. It sounded vaguely like his heart monitor, clear and ominous.

_Come down from your fences, open the gate_

It was clearer now, and a cold, dull pain gripped his heart. Blaine wrung his hands together, his fingernails painfully digging into his palms. He closed his eyes, different colors swam together on the back of his eyelids, dizzying and confusing.

_It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you_

The dull pain grew sharp, and Blaine's breathing was strained. It became harder and harder to breathe, the sharp pain making it very hard indeed.

_You better let somebody love you, before it's too late_

Blaine could feel he was slipping away. He didn't want to leave his friends. _Oh god what now? What was he going to do? _Blaine wanted to stay. He really did. But he felt that he was needed somewhere else now.

He opened his eyes one last time, memorizing each face while he had the chance; he knew that he wouldn't see them for a very, very long time.

Blaine breathed out and gave in to the power that forced him away. But not before he heard the last line of the song, sad and loving, directed pointedly, but not harshly to him.

_You better let somebody love you, before it's too late_

**Aannd we're done!**

**There are a few things that you ****need to know**** first so please read.**

**Kurt is in his senior year. There is no Sebastian. No Carole either, though she will come by sooner or later. Burt's been stuck in his comma for a while now and Kurt kind of lives alone. He lives on his bank money; he's a thrifty person so he has a lot aand he has a part-time job. He isn't in the glee club, sadly but I'll get that fixed soon.**

**Review? Pretty please? I swear I'll give you hugs! Though I don't know if they're that much of a prize since I'll just be hugging my computer. I send my warmth and love!**

**So, Please Review!**


	2. Chapter 2: Meeting

**Thanks to all those who read my story! I'm really sorry about not being able to update this sooner! I really am. I don't know when I'll get to update because of school, and exams, and motherfucking long homework. I'm sorry. Shoutout to ****OnClairenceLane** **for being my first ever reviewer! I am honored, *bows*. Thank You! **

**Hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 2: Meeting**

"Ugh." Kurt grunted in pain, the locker's metal digging painfully into his back.

Kurt set his lips in a grim line, his heart rate slowly going back to normal. He hated being scared. He _hated_ it. Anger bubbled inside him as he sent an ice-cold glare to Karofsky, who just gave a smug smile and continued walking down the corridor, unperturbed, and disappeared completely in the dense mass of moving bodies.

Kurt exhaled heavily through his nose. He felt humiliated and frightened, and so _alone._ It never bothered Kurt before, this sickeningly overpowering sense of loneliness. He was losing it. He felt it. He was scared. Kurt felt tired all of a sudden, his energy seeping out of him quickly.

He stood back up; head held high, nose in the air and brushed the dirt off of his designer clothes. He winced internally at the small bruise that he accidentally hit on his thigh. He wouldn't show any kind of weakness while anyone was there to see him. He wouldn't let them see that Karofsky's locker shoves and dumpster tosses affected him. He had his pride after all. He clutched onto the strap of his brown messenger bag tighter and sped off, straight to French.

It was roughly his favorite class, the easiest too. He wasn't in Glee. He had two part-time jobs; on top of that visiting his Father in the hospital took a lot of his time. It would have been nice though. Kurt loved music. He would often sing a Beatle's song whenever he was upset. He learned that from his mother.

Kurt rounded the corner and entered the classroom, sitting in his usual seat next to Azimio.

The dumbass didn't understand a thing about French. Kurt wondered why the gigantic buffoon even took this class. He was even more confused when the idiot suddenly grabbed his arm and announced to the whole class that Kurt was his partner. Kurt was flabbergasted, shocked, and disbelieving, until Azimio shoved him roughly into his chair and told him to do all the work, while he slept soundly in his chair, like a gigantic half-dead sloth.

The moron was dead asleep, a small puddle of drool trickling down his open mouth.

Kurt moved as far away as possible, instantly disgusted. "Wake up you gorilla!" Kurt spat out angrily, in French of course, and kicked Azimio's chair.

He woke up with a start, blinking his eyes sleepily. He yawned loudly, -_Eww. He smells like a dumpster._ And wiped the drool off his face with his letterman jacket sleeve.

Kurt inched even further and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"_I swear he looks like a gigantic hippo." _Kurt thought when Azimio proceeded to open his mouth to form yet another yawn, his garlic breath immediately stinking up the room. Azimio continued to wipe the small pool of saliva on the table with his T-shirt, leaving a large wet stain on the front.

_Ew eww eww ew ew!_

Azimio glared at Kurt and said: "What you staring at lady face?"

Kurt scoffed and whispered loudly in French: "Nothing but a pathetic excuse for a human being. I never knew monkeys could talk."

Azimio gave him a what-the-fuck-are-you-saying look and spread his arms all over the table, his jacket sleeve still wet from the saliva he wiped off his face, completely knowing that this would tick Kurt off into a mumbling mess and emitted yet another revoltingly, loud yawn.

Kurt crossed his arms and glared at the board. If looks could kill, Azimio was pretty sure that the blackboard would have been on fire right now.

The French teacher was completely oblivious to the silent ongoing battle that was happening right underneath her nose and gave the class a pop quiz.

Kurt grimaced as he tried his best to answer the test and not to ruin his test paper on the left-over saliva that Azimio smeared all over the table.

Looks like it was another sufficiently horrible day for Kurt Hummel.

...

Kurt coiffed his hair back to perfection in the safety of his car, after a particularly painful dumpster throw that both seemed to achieve bruises on his back and ruining his hair. He was going back to the hospital. He decided to skip going to his job as a waiter today. Today was special. Today was a Friday. Kurt felt his heart tighten in his chest at the thought and tried to skimp over to happier thoughts. Child services weren't coming for two more months, even though he was legally, an adult, so Kurt still had time to look for a long-lost relative somewhere. He had at least enough money to pay the bills this month. Kurt nearly had a heart attack on the first time he opened the bills. At least if he had ended up in a comma he would be with his dad, somewhere out there. They'd be together, and Kurt didn't have to go through this torture alone..

The drive to the hospital was silent, Kurt too enveloped in thoughts of money and hospital bills to fill the car with music, either by singing or just reaching out a hand to turn on the radio. It wasn't until he parked his car and stepped outside that he realized it was snowing. He closed his eyes, and let himself get lost in his memories.

HeHHe

"_Look Daddy! It's snowing!" little six year-old Kurt said, his breath fogging up the glass. He was bouncing up and down on the tiny chair that held him up to look out the window of their kitchen. It was a miracle he didn't fall off of his chair and hit his head. It seemed as if Elizabeth Hummel thought so as well when she hurried over and took a wide-eyed Kurt into her arms._

"_Sweetie, look, you forgot to put a smiley face on the glass." Elizabeth said smiling lovingly at the child that squirmed in her arms._

"_But Mommy! It's snowing! It's snowing! Just like on t.v! It's snowing!" Kurt said excitedly, stopping his wriggling to point out the window with wide, amazed eyes._

_Burt Hummel laughed fondly and put Kurt's mittens on for him, his large hands covering Kurt's small, delicately white ones. Elizabeth put Kurt back down on the ground and whispered in his ear about snow angels and hot chocolate and snowmen._

"_Hold my hand Kurt." Burt said with a toothy smile, his big, mitten-covered hand looked humongous to Kurt, who took it happily and skipped between his parents who swung him forward and backward until they reached the front door, letting snowflakes melt on the tip of their tongues._

Kurt was doing just that when he shuffled quickly out of the snow, his boots being the first to blemish the snow's innocently white surface. He felt the familiar stinging on the back of his eyes and held up his mitten-covered hands to his face, rubbing and huffing to get as much warmth as he could. Kurt smiled sadly at the memory, not even caring for once that the snow had ruined his clothes. Kurt combed his hair free of snow and stared warily at the Hospital's double doors.

Kurt never liked the hospital. Never liked the heavy air of sickness and depressing sadness wherever he went. Ironically that's all he felt right now. Sad and alone. Kurt sighed quietly and frowned. His father wouldn't want this. He wouldn't have liked for him to spend his days in despair. He would have wanted him to smile. To _live._

But Kurt lost all purpose to live after his father had his attack. He stood and walked tall and proud in the Halls of McKinley High, but if there was anyone who knew him well enough they would know that it would have all just been an act. The walls that protected him from completely breaking down. He hated being tormented and scared and helpless. But Kurt didn't crack yet. He wouldn't let himself break. At least, not in school. But he felt small vines, the pressure of handling the tire business alone, handling 2 jobs at the same time and keeping up with school work; worming through his carefully built walls. He was nearing his breaking point, and Kurt very much knew it.

He smiled his first genuine smile of the day. He was going to see his father again. That always seemed to put him in a better mood. Even if he didn't reply back, or squeeze his hand…

Kurt bit his lip.

_No. _

_He was not going to break. No._

Kurt strode down the halls, until he reached his father's door, took in a shaky breath, and turned the knob.

Kurt winced at the steady beep of his father's heart monitor. He asks daily about the condition of his father, and they would almost always reply him with a sympathetic, _"No change yet. I'm sorry. All we can do is to wait."_ Kurt tried to put on a cheery smile when he gently set out the containers of food out from his messenger bag. It was a Friday after all and Kurt ate dinner with his dad every Friday.

Kurt tried to make up for the times he missed some days and slept in the hospital room with his father every Friday.

Kurt tried to keep up his smile when he sat beside his father and held his hand.

"Dad." Kurt said shakily. "I brought your favorite today, even though it's healthy." Kurt laughed, and smiled bitterly when it sounded hollow and fake. "Turkey sandwiches."

"I- I'm doing okay. I'm still living alone but it- it's okay." Tears dripped onto Kurt's lap, his smile still plastered onto his face.

"Dad. Dad- I-I'm scared dad. I- I'm scared of doing this alone." Kurt said, clutching tighter to the cold, waxy hand he was holding. His face crumpled and his voice shook with emotions Kurt was too tired to place anymore.

He sobbed and broke down, finally letting his quivering walls crumble and fall, it would take a lot of time for Kurt to build them back up again, but that didn't matter right now.

Nothing mattered at all.

…

Blaine Anderson was yet again standing in his hospital room, but he was not alone, like before. Frantic bodies ran through and around him in all directions, screaming, whispering, and sobbing. He wasn't surprised that he ended up here again but he didn't expect it. He watched his family members cry for him, he longed to hold them and tell them he was going to a better place, but he didn't know if he was, so he settled for holding his mother's wrist and stroking her hair while she cried.

The normally calm beeping sound of his heart monitor had gone on a rampage, unstopping, frantic, and calming all at the same time to Blaine. It was deafening, and the doctor's commands for more electricity cut through him like a knife. He wasn't going to wake up. Never again.

Blaine watched his body jump slightly on the bed, unresponsive, practically dead. He cried quietly, mourning for the life he dreamed of having, mourning for the friends he would never see, mourning for the people he would never meet, and crying for the people that cried for him, because he fully well knew that if he wasn't on the brink of death right now, these people would never have come and see him. These _people _if you could even call them_ that_ had never thought of him as family. Ever since he came out, he had been known as that "fag" it had almost killed him when he found out about his familial '_identity'_. He ran out of the house ashamed and lost with purpose. His mother found him two days later, shivering, and whimpering on a sidewalk, bloody and hungry.

Looks like his mother can't save him now.

He started when he felt an electric shock go through him. He closed his eyes, and let an overpowering sense of calm overwhelm him, and let the mysterious and cliché white light lead him, far, far away.

A blinding white was all Blaine could see, so he shut his eyes tight and tried to look between his open fingers. He was- _standing on a cloud?-_ and different swirls of color erupted from all around him, bursting and sparkling. Stars were seen overhead, and it looked so close, he reached out his hand and caught a shooting star, a small sparkling gem of glitter that dimmed and faded away like what a firework would do on an inky, black sky.

He looked up and saw eyes, _could you call them that?_ They swirled with different colors, changing every second, then Blaine heard a voice, slippery and dazzlingly sweet, telling him to go back, to return to the place he came from, he had to finish what he was supposed to do, the voice said, all the while Blaine nodded with his eyes closed and smiled dreamily, he didn't even know he was crying, when a gentle wind wiped the tears off his face, whispering that he'll come back to this- this place in 200 days.

200 days? What was with 200? Blaine thought, though his thoughts were jumbled up together, memories twisting and turning.

And then all the warmth he felt was gone, the euphoria and the dreamy sensation of floating in mid-air disappeared, and Blaine was left with a suffocating hollow feeling.

He opened his eyes, the smile wiped completely of his face, though the elation of being _There _was still buzzing in his ears. What remained of his broken heart pounded loudly and heavily, because he was, once again, in a hospital? Blaine thought he was, the depressing, white walls remained the same, and the acrid, stench of alcohol was still in the air, but he was facing a door.

It was a rather ordinary door, so Blaine had no idea why turning the knob filled him with a great sense of right. The door opened silently, and closed in the same way. But Blaine was surprised to not be in his own room. He was looking- staring at a dazzlingly, beautiful boy, the color of his eyes, a deep swirl of grays and blues. They were shimmering with tears, and he had milky, white vanilla skin.

Blaine's chest thudded, his stomach dropped, and his mouth opened in surprise.

"Dad. Dad- I-I'm scared dad. I- I'm scared of doing this alone." The beautifully unreal boy said, clutching onto a hand that Blaine noticed just now. He assumed that he was his father, his hand was waxy and pale, and thin, and Blaine felt that he had to comfort him.

He noticed a pile of sandwiches that seemed to have gone cold, and a pile of pillows on an improvised bed of sheets.

His heart thudded when an overpowering sense of protection told him to hug him, tell him it was alright, everything was gonna be okay.

Blaine hesitantly wrapped his arms around the boy's middle and dipped his head in the boy's neck.

Blaine jumped as far away as possible when he _felt _the boy's soft skin, and _smelled_ his perfume.

The boy's head whipped around, confused and tired, looking straight at him, when he said:

"Who are you?"

**Done. Ha. Sorry. Short chapter is short. **

**Please review. They seriously make my day a kazillion times better! Please. Also, don't go easy on me. I need as much help as I can get for a beginner so please please pretty please review. I'm begging you. Thank You for reading. **


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